Prologue
My mother called from the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs. “Katrina, it’s time for bed.”
I closed the book I’d been reading and set it gently on my bed before crossing to my dresser.
When I pulled the drawer open, it slid out with a soft wooden scrape, revealing the pink-and-purple flowered flannel nightgown I’d gotten for Christmas last year.
I had just grabbed it when I heard my mother’s footsteps climbing the stairs.
In a rush, I yanked back the covers, set Pandi—my stuffed panda—carefully on the pillow, and tried to make everything look as if I’d already been getting ready for bed.
Without even thinking, I tossed the T-shirt I’d been wearing all day toward the wicker hamper in the corner.
It missed by at least a foot and landed in a sad heap on the floor.
My denim shorts followed a second later, flopping right on top of it, just as my bedroom door swung open and my mother stepped inside.
She took one look at the pile, shook her head, and bent to pick everything up.
“What am I going to do with you, Kat?” she said with a laugh. “You need to work on your hook shot.”
“I try, Mom, but my clothes have minds of their own.”
Mom picked up my storybook and slid it onto the shelf beside the other fairy tales I loved. “Go brush your teeth,” she said. “I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
“Seriously, Mom. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m going to be seven in a couple of days.” She smiled and kissed the top of my head as she walked past me.
“One day, you’re going to miss those kisses,” she said, softly pulling the door nearly shut behind her.
A few moments later, I shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, dragging my feet just enough to make sure Mom could hear I was going under protest. I brushed my teeth in a hurry, made one stupid face in the mirror, and ended up with toothpaste foam all around my mouth like a rabid dog in pajamas.
After rinsing, I wiped my mouth on the towel and headed back to my room, not quite ready to give in to bedtime yet.
The ruffle at the bottom of my nightgown swished around my legs as I crossed to the little wooden desk beneath my window.
It was a cold February night in Ashbury, and snow was falling outside in slow, steady curtains.
In the glow of the streetlight out front, the flakes looked huge and bright, drifting down from the dark sky like feathers.
“Kat, stop dawdling and get in bed,” Mom called.
Sometimes I was sure she had secret cameras hidden in my room.
I reached for the green crayon lying on my desk and drew a big X through the box on the calendar.
Only two more days until my birthday party, and five more until Dad came home.
The Air Force had sent him away a whole year ago, and even though I tried to be brave about it, I missed him so bad.
My dad was my hero, my everything. I was his little girl—his princess—and nothing in the world made me feel safer or more special than when he was around.
Climbing into bed, I tucked Pandi into the crook of my arm and snuggled him close.
I had him since I was a baby and as the years went by, his fur became matted, and his eyes were barely hanging on, even though Mom had stitched them back on a couple years ago.
I swung the sheets over my legs, reached for the lamp, and clicked it off before tugging the blankets snug beneath my chin.
Then I closed my eyes and imagined I was the princess from The Princess and the Pea.
Maybe one day, a prince would come for me, and we would live in a castle and be happy forever, just like in my favorite stories.